


Baby Blue

by spicyboyfriend



Category: GOT7
Genre: "If You Do" MV, Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-02-11 07:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12930198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicyboyfriend/pseuds/spicyboyfriend
Summary: Jinyoung paints, and Yugyeom is a nuisance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been sitting in my docs for a couple of months now, and i wanted to publish this! even if i leave it unfinished, i feel good having it posted. of course, i do hope to finish this soon! hopefully only two or three chapters. anyways, this is all unbeta'd and unedited, so feel free to let me know of typos or mistakes in prose!
> 
> also loosely inspired by the "if you do" mv, where yugyeom is banging on the door, and jinyoung appears to be an artist.

In hindsight, Yugyeom wasn’t quite sure what he had expected when he stormed a mostly vacant apartment complex at ten in the morning in a baby blue button up, jacket, and matching pants, banging on the door in front of him like it was the only barrier between him and his boyfriend.

Well— actually, using the word, “boyfriend,” was even being a little generous. They weren’t really boyfriends anymore. The fact that he stood Yugyeom up the night before was sign enough that they weren’t really _anything_ anymore.

That couldn’t do anything to stop Yugyeom, though. If anything, it made him louder, more motivated, _angrier._ And god, did he hate being angry at him, because it wasn’t really his boyfriend’s (ex’s?) fault— they just didn’t mesh well together. Yugyeom was a simple person, and his ex (boyfriend?) was an enigma in and of himself. He didn’t tell Yugyeom things he was feeling, he’d just expect him to know. He’d treat Yugyeom like he was childish for loving him, but shame him for not loving him enough in the right times. It felt like no matter what Yugyeom did, he couldn’t get anything right.

_(“It’s called manipulation and abuse,” Bambam had said one night after one too many drinks, before he and Youngjae ended up pink cheeked and knocked out in Yugyeom’s shoddy living room apartment. “He’s gaslighting you.”_

_Youngjae hiccupped before taking another sip of soju. “Did you just say Yugyeom’s ex is lighting him on fire?”_

_“Shh.”_

_“He’s not my ex.”)_

Their last argument ended with Yugyeom in tears, standing in the middle of the living room, his ex trying to tell Yugyeom he saw him cheating, when Yugyeom knew better than anybody else that he _wasn't_ cheating on his own ex.

_“I saw you, Yugyeom. Saw you cheating on me with someone else!”_

_“I'm not!”_ Yugyeom had shouted, his heart thudding in his chest as he tried to stand his ground. _“I was at work all day, Bambam can even vouch for me.”_

 _“The only thing you know how to do is lie. I'm sick of you,”_ his ex said before turning his back on Yugyeom and heading off in the direction of his room.

As Yugyeom chased after him, shouting his name between cries and begging for him to just _stop_ and _listen_ for once, pleads for him to love Yugyeom. His ex stopped in the hall, shoving Yugyeom into the wall by his shoulders and looking into his eyes.

_“Nobody will ever love you the way I loved you. You're not worth it.”_

Thinking about it sent chills down Yugyeom’s spine. He shivered and brought his fist down on the door again, calling his name out once more.

His ex had texted him the night before, asking for forgiveness, and if Yugyeom wasn't willing to give, he was ready to beg. Ready to grovel at his feet— but Yugyeom didn't want any of that. He didn't want begging or crying, didn't want to be utterly worshipped in return for his forgiveness. He just wanted love. He just wanted to _be loved._ Why was it so hard for Yugyeom to find that?

“You're the one that asked _me_ for forgiveness!” Yugyeom screamed, kicking the door and hating the fact that it didn't budge as he did so. Fucking apartments. Fucking sturdy doors and wood floors and soft carpets outside of the bed. Yugyeom could practically imagine the soft rug just underneath his boyfriend’s (ex’s) bed, how it felt against his toes.

There came no answer still. Not even the sound of the television in the background or him talking to anybody else. Just eerie silence. Just an unsettled feeling in the pit of Yugyeom’s stomach as he burst into tears, pressing his forehead against the door in front of him and sniffling. His tears burned his eyes, angry he had been reduced to tears without his ex even being there. Yugyeom wanted to hate him so bad. Every single part of him wanted to hate his ex.

But his heart still ached. He still cried. His head pounded with shame. He loved him _so_ much.

It was only after Yugyeom heard the sound of a chain latch coming undone, and a door swinging open just down the hall, that Yugyeom remembered other people lived in this apartment complex, too, and they probably heard him outright wailing out in the hall just a few minutes earlier. Taking a deep breath in, Yugyeom wiped his eyes on the palms of his hands and stood up straight, ready to walk away when said person who opened their door, cleared their throat and caught his attention.

Darting his gaze back down the hall, Yugyeom found a man leaning against his doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. Across his white shirt were flecks and splats of paint, and a cigarette sat over the curve of his ear. Yugyeom vaguely thought he had maybe seen him around the complex before— maybe taking out garbage or in passing in the hall when he and his ex were walking back after a short and bittersweet date.

“Are you the one making all that noise?” The man said first. Yugyeom straightened out, looking the man up and down once more, and not realizing a sneer was growing on his lips with the action. The man hardly seemed affected by Yugyeom’s blatant disrespect, and simply cocked a brow, waiting for his answer.

“Yeah.”

“Other people live here, you know,” he sighed out, as if even lecturing Yugyeom was an inconvenience for him. “Whatever problems you’re having aren’t ours, so keep it down.”

Yugyeom, a naturally defensive person, immediately grimaced. He wanted to ask who this man thought he even was, how he felt like he somehow had the right to lecture Yugyeom, a grown adult himself, before he rolled his eyes and waved his hand.

“Whatever, old man.”

“Generally, people say thank you after someone gives them a piece of advice!” The man shouted after Yugyeom, who was already storming down the hall, heading towards the apartment elevator and closing the door to it behind him. After jabbing the bottom floor button, he leaned against the railing with a loud sigh, the elevator creaking to life and beginning the gradual ride down.

Maybe his ex just wasn’t there. Maybe he just wasn’t in his apartment. Yeah, that was a good explanation, Yugyeom thought before letting his head fall forward, chin on his chest. He was tired. His clothes reeked like the night before (like sweat, and booze, and smoke, and spice). His jacket was stiff, pants stupidly tight.

Every part of him was suffocating.

From his head, to his heart, to even his feet in his shoes, which were pinching his toes together. Fuck. When was the last time he had even gone shopping? Yugyeom couldn’t remember. He felt like all of his time lately had been sucked up by his ex, by how much time he spent with him. It was embarrassing. It was outright annoying. Bambam had even called him out on it, but Yugyeom brushed it off at the time, completely blinded by his utter adoration for his ex-boyfriend at the time.

And yet, Yugyeom was trying to get him back. Even though he was angrily pounding on his front door earlier, he knew as soon as he saw the softness of his face, the deceptively comforting warmth of his smile, the way his eyelashes flitted lightly over the curve of his cheek.... Already, Yugyeom’s heart was aching.

When the elevator reached the ground floor, Yugyeom tiredly threw the door open, walked out, and pulled his phone out of his pocket to warn Bambam that it was only him coming home, and not to worry when he heard the door unlocking.

The last time Yugyeom hadn’t come home for a few days and also didn’t warn Bambam of the fact that he was finally coming home, he earned a shoe to the side of his head, considering their only defense system in the house was... well, Bambam. The kid probably weighed nothing even when he was soaking wet, so Yugyeom expected nothing less from him, even if his cheek purpled after the wallop he received.

Walking home in his clothes proved to be as much of a walk of shame as it was when he was dressed in normal already-slept-in clothes. The ladies on the sidewalk selling things stared at him funny, smiled when he made eye contact, but still giggled at his odd getup. He didn’t blame them. Baby blue was fucking ugly. It was Yugyeom’s favorite color before, thus explaining why he had the suit in the first place. Now, he just felt ridiculous, as he kicked the points of his shoes against the sidewalk and hissed when an uncomfortable pain shot through to the back of his heel.

At the crosswalk, Yugyeom settled in a crowd of young kids, all of them heading towards school. Some of them gave him weird looks, others outright talked about him, but most of them ignored him in favor of waiting for the light to change.

After some time of waiting, Yugyeom finally dared to look up, his eyes immediately trailing over to a young woman standing at the opposite side of the sidewalk. In her arms were two full palettes of paint, her hands curled daintily over the edges. She swept a piece of her hair behind her ear, looking across the street and taking a step forward as soon as the light flashed from ‘stop’ to ‘walk’. Yugyeom did the same, staring at her the entire time before he realized she had already walked past him. Maybe she was heading towards that guy’s apartment with those paints in her hand. Poor sod. She had to deal with _that_ guy in the morning. He almost felt bad for her.

  
  
  
  
  


Another night, another drunken adventure with Bambam, Youngjae, and Co. This time, Youngjae asked to bring along another friend, an older one named Yoongi, who was fairly quiet for most of the night, drinking 7-Up and cranberry juice for most of the night while Bambam, Youngjae, and Yugyeom all downed shot after shot after shot of tequila. Youngjae chased it with lemonade, while Bambam and Yugyeom chugged it down and let the burn sit in their throat for a while at first.

Normally, one of them always ended up crying before the end of the night. It was tradition. Last week, Bambam was sobbing about being homesick, while hiding his face in his arms, Youngjae and Yugyeom patting him on the back. Yugyeom remembered once Youngjae even burst into tears while scrolling through his own Instagram profile, staring at the pictures of his dog and sobbing that he couldn’t believe he had gotten such a cute dog.

This week, it was inadvertently Yugyeom’s turn to cry. Not that he had planned it, or that he had even wanted to cry on that night, as they chugged more tequila, and later, Yugyeom decided to wash it down with thick guzzles of rum, too far gone to care about mixing his alcohol. His head was swimming, thoughts all intermingling, and it wasn’t long before Yugyeom was sniffling and wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands.

“Oh, Yugyeom-ah?” Youngjae said, patting Yugyeom’s back in small circles. “It’s you tonight, hm?”

“I just—” Yugyeom hiccuped and wiped his eyes again, the tears burning as he tried to fight back against them.

“‘S his piece of shit ex!” Bambam shouted, pointing accusingly at Yugyeom, who frowned and immediately snapped at him.

“He’s not my ex!”

Bambam snorted with laughter. “Yeah? What is he, then, Yugyeom? Is he really your boyfriend still?” Bambam took another shot of tequila with a loud groan as it burned on the way down. “Bet you still think he loves you.”

“Shut up!” Yugyeom pushed his seat out, angry, nearly knocking over all of their drinks. Yoongi set his hand on top of his own drink, as well as Youngjae’s, so they wouldn’t topple over, and Bambam’s own was empty, rolled on the table before falling on the floor and bouncing slightly (bless their cheap plastic shot glasses). The only drink that ended up spilled was Yugyeom’s own, unfortunately.

At the silence that followed, Yugyeom felt his arms trembling underneath him, his blood running cold at all their eyes on him. Yoongi was even staring up at him, his eyes tracing over Yugyeom’s expression, calculated.

“Sit down, Yugyeom,” Bambam said. Yugyeom huffed in annoyance. “You know, I’ve said it once before— that he’s abusing you. That he’s treating you like shit and then acting like _you’re_ the one overreacting just so you won’t leave him.” Bambam’s cheeks were an angry shade of red. “He wants you to be scared of him, scared of him _leaving_ you.” Bambam pointed a finger at Yugyeom again. “And you let him!”

“Bammie,” Youngjae started. “That’s enough.”

“No!” Bambam was the one yelling now, mad because he was drunk, and mad because of Yugyeom. He fell back in his seat and shook his head. “I’m tired of his boyfriend constantly treating him like shit. I’m tired of having him coming here and telling us like it’s normal. You _know_ it’s not normal!”

Yugyeom’s phone vibrated, his hand immediately flinching off of the table and darting for his pocket. Bambam scoffed, pushing himself out of his seat and lifting his hands in the air.

“I’m done,” Bambam said. “Bet you any money that’s his ex texting him right now. And tomorrow, or even tonight, he’s gonna go running back to him.”

Bambam grabbed his things from off of the couch, tugging his shoes on before letting out an angry, “goodbye!”, and storming out towards the hall of Youngjae’s apartment complex.

Youngjae sighed, and Yoongi muttered something Yugyeom couldn’t really discern, and didn’t care about either. Yugyeom’s hands were trembling, his fingers struggling to keep a grip on his phone as he reread the text, which was from his ex.

 _You ruined everything. Don’t bother coming back. Your things are in the garbage._ **(9:22 pm)**

  
  
  
  
  


Yugyeom let the text sit overnight, but Bambam wasn’t wrong. The following day, as soon as Yugyeom woke up, he was planning on stopping by his ex’s apartment, if only to see him one last time.

He showered, making sure his hair looked good as soon as he was dressed, and even put on a touch of makeup (not much— only blush to the apples of his cheeks and a flick of mascara, and maybe a smudge of eyeliner), before tugging on a pair of jeans and a jacket that actually previously belonged to his ex. When he didn’t want it anymore, he offhandedly told Yugyeom he could have it. It was passive, and truthfully, Yugyeom wasn’t sure if his ex cared if it went to the trash or went to Yugyeom, both being the same level of indifference to him, but Yugyeom took it and kept it gratefully anyway.

And thus began Yugyeom’s walk of shame back to his ex’s apartment. Normally it was on the way back that Yugyeom would call it a walk of shame, but he could already feel the disgusting feeling building in the pit of his stomach. Yugyeom walked down the familiar path to his ex’s apartment complex, one foot after the other, stopping only at crosswalks, and maybe to occasionally glance at himself in windows, before looking away.

Truthfully, he didn’t want to see his own face before he planned on grovelling and begging for forgiveness from someone who didn’t even deserve the time of day from Yugyeom.

Yugyeom knew this. Knew he deserved better, someone who really loved him. This wasn’t love.

Yugyeom swallowed the thoughts with the ball in his throat, and kept walking.

  
  


Clouds had settled over the plains of the sky by the time Yugyeom arrived at the beginning of the block to his ex’s apartment complex. He could see it already, in the distance, as normal as ever, and yet, strange, at the same time. Yugyeom knew he wasn’t being loved, but at least when he arrived other times, he could pretend. He could act like it was welcoming and warm. Now it just looked desolate and cold, and the gray clouds overhead were definitely not doing anything to help the situation.

The door to the front of the apartment complex burst open, followed by a young woman storming out with canvas paintings in her arm. There was shouting from the complex first, a man coming out at the entrance a little while after her. Yugyeom stopped in his tracks, watched the woman go to the side of the building to toss the canvas paintings in the garbage. Yugyeom took a few cursory steps forward, watching as he managed to get most of them in the garbage. The ones she didn’t, she left on the ground, stomping on them and shouting as the man came running after her.

“This isn’t okay!” She screamed as soon as the man reached for her, jerking her arm away and shoving him. “I don’t love you, so stop forcing your feelings onto me.”

“I’ve never asked you to love me,” the man replied quickly. Yugyeom realized it was the man who had chided him for being too loud, and if Yugyeom was seeing right, it was the same woman who was crossing the street that same day. “Eunmi, just— just listen to me.”

“No!” She shoved him again. “You are on your last chance with me. Either you stop with these creepy paintings, or— or I won’t come back.”

With that, she stormed past him, leaving him in a huffing mess before wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. Yugyeom looked back at her, waited for her to cross the street, before finding the man still standing at the garbage.

Immediately, he noticed Yugyeom staring at him, a grimace sweeping over his face, ready to tell him to mind his business, when Yugyeom reached down and picked up one of the smaller canvases the woman had dropped on the way to the garbage. He walked up to the man, holding it out for him, before he felt him take it, cautiously, eyes still intense on Yugyeom.

“Would you like help?” Yugyeom said. The man flinched at the question.

“It’s fine,” he snapped, all too quickly. Still, Yugyeom picked up the painting the woman had stomped on. It took him a moment to realize that the paintings— both of them— were of her. Beautiful and captured in a second on frame. The others must have been the same.

The man didn’t object again, even as Yugyeom reached over the edge of the garbage bin and pulled out more, carrying most of them in his arms while the man grabbed the few salvageable ones and directed him upstairs. Yugyeom didn’t say anything the entire way up, even as they stood in the elevator together in relative silence.

Yugyeom waited for the man to kick open his apartment complex door, not fully closed from apparently chasing the woman downstairs. He tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted when he walked past his ex’s door.

“Thank you,” the man said, as Yugyeom set the paintings down on a coffee table in the living room. Yugyeom nodded his head.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry that happened.”

“It’s my own doing.” The man looked at Yugyeom. “You’re the one that was making all that fucking racket down the hall the other day.”

Yugyeom blinked at the word, but nodded his head. “Yeah. Er, about that— I apologize.” Yugyeom vaguely gestured with his hand, trying to string together a coherent thought after being shocked into the situation like this. “It won’t happen again.”

The man hummed in response.

“You called me old.”

The silence that followed was odd, like the man was deciding to kick Yugyeom out or not. Yugyeom cleared his throat in the silence, and gestured towards the paintings he left on the table.

“They’re nice.”

The man furrowed his brows and stared at Yugyeom.

“I mean, I just think they look nice. Why’d she throw them out?” Yugyeom picked one up, a smaller one, and traced his eyes over the gentle strokes of paint. There were even sketches of the woman, done in pencil, with smudges of graphite over the canvas.

“She thinks they’re... creepy,” admitted the man, with an embarrassed blush on his face.

Yugyeom hummed, tilting his head from side to side. “Well, I could see why. I mean, there are a lot of them. And some more over in the corner,” Yugyeom gestured towards the corner of the room, where an easel and paint sat, “so it’s a little creepy.”

“I didn’t _ask,”_ the man said, annoyed. Yugyeom set the painting in his hand down, before stuffing his hands in his pockets and staring at the empty walls.

“She tore them off the walls?” He said. The man nodded. “Would you like help putting them back up?”

The man flinched again, utterly confused by Yugyeom, and his apparent nonchalance when it came to helping a complete stranger.

“I don’t even know you,” the man said. Yugyeom pursed his lips before bowing his head.

“Hello, my name is Kim Yugyeom. I’m 19 years old.” Yugyeom rocked back and forth on the heels of his feet. “Now you know me. Would you like help?”

The man took a moment to contemplate once more, before bowing his head in the same vaguely polite manner Yugyeom had, and parting his lips to speak.

“I’m Park Jinyoung. I’m 22 years old,” he spoke softly, like he couldn’t believe he was really introducing himself to a relative stranger in the middle of his living room. “I guess... I mean, if you _want_ to stay and help—” Jinyoung stopped himself and shook his head. “Actually, I have a friend coming later, and he can help me, or I can just leave them off until I get the energy to put them up—”

Except Yugyeom was already pushing the sleeves to his shirt up, pushing his hair away from his face and smiling at Jinyoung.

“We’ll put up what we can before your friend gets here.” Yugyeom pointed towards the largest canvas, which had been torn off of the wall, but not taken downstairs, probably because of its ridiculous size. “This one?”

Jinyoung hesitated to respond, but nodded his head and moved to the other side of the canvas, picking up the ends on his side and helping Yugyeom lift it up. They moved to the side, Jinyoung pulling a thick string of twine from the back so they could hang it up again. Yugyeom focused on the task at hand, the two finally managing to get it on the walls and stepping away with a quiet sigh. Jinyoung stuck his thumb in the air, measuring the evenness with his fingers, and then nodding after a moment of thought.

Yugyeom appreciated the distraction for a few hours, and before they knew it, they had cleaned up most of the torn and shoe-printed canvases, leaving only the pristine ones on the walls. Yugyeom sighed and brushed sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.

“Water?” Jinyoung offered. Yugyeom nodded and followed Jinyoung to his kitchen, who reached into his fridge and tossed him a cold bottle of water. Yugyeom glanced at the clock— a little past two, but not too later in the afternoon to where he’d miss his ex. He worked overnights, so most of the time, he was asleep in the evenings, but he’d most likely still be awake right now. Yugyeom could catch him right before he fell asleep.

“Thanks,” Jinyoung said before taking a sip of his water and letting the silence sit between them.

Despite still being near strangers, Yugyeom didn’t think it was too weird for him to be there at the moment. Something about Jinyoung’s apartment felt cozy— distantly, Yugyeom tried not to remember than Jinyoung’s apartment was laid out exactly like his ex’s was. That might’ve had to do with how relaxed Yugyeom was feeling.

But he ignored it in favor of perking up when Jinyoung set his bottle down and leaned back against his counter.

“When you were here,” Jinyoung began, waving his hands vaguely towards the hall of the complex, “the other morning, and you were making all that noise... who were you here for?” Jinyoung paused and looked away from Yugyeom, who was seemingly embarrassed. “I know that guy that lives down there, but I don’t remember seeing you around ever.”

Yugyeom bit his tongue when he felt the urge to mention it was because his ex tried to keep him well hidden. He was always making it seem like he was embarrassed of Yugyeom.

“That guy... er, he’s my boyfriend.” Yugyeom wanted to smack himself as soon as he said the word. Yeah, he still wasn’t sure, but that didn’t mean he had to act so fucking desperate and hold onto the word like it was the only thing keeping them together. His ex made it seemingly clear he didn’t want anything to do with Yugyeom. Yugyeom had even glanced in the trash to see if his things were still there (they weren’t— they must have already been taken early in the morning. There went all of Yugyeom’s spare clothes).

“Oh.” Jinyoung’s surprised noise caught Yugyeom off guard. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah.” Yugyeom rubbed the back of his neck, Jinyoung still avoiding his gaze, and Yugyeom not trying to catch his attention that much either.

“He doesn’t seem like the type to have a boyfriend.” Jinyoung paused, leaning forward and making Yugyeom glance at him, an odd look on Jinyoung’s face. “And you definitely don’t seem like the type to date a guy like him.”

Yugyeom immediately felt defensiveness prickle at his skin, ready to argue with Jinyoung about it, but quickly deflated, the fight dying on his lips as soon as he realized that he’d be fighting for nobody. His ex didn’t know, and truthfully, even if he did know that someone was saying this about him, Yugyeom wasn’t sure he would care or disagree _either._

“You barely know me,” Yugyeom replied, but he couldn't say he wasn't intrigued by what Jinyoung meant. He nearly asked what type of guy Yugyeom _did_ seem like the type to date, but he held himself back instead. “Or him.”

“True,” Jinyoung conceded. He looked like he still had something to say, but whatever it was, dissipated when Jinyoung checked his watch for the time. “Ah. My friend should be here soon.”

“Oh. Okay.” Yugyeom pushed himself away from the counter. “Uh, I'll leave.”

Jinyoung nodded, following Yugyeom to the front door as he tugged his shoes on and pulled his jacket back on as well. He didn't think he was planning on knocking on his ex’s door today, if only because Jinyoung might hear him sounding pathetic, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“Thanks for helping me,” Jinyoung said. Yugyeom let out a soft hum of acknowledgment. “I'll see you around?”

“Possibly,” Yugyeom said, lying through his teeth. “Or maybe you won't. I'm a _very_ busy man. Don't have time to help common people put up their paintings every _day.”_

“Pfft. Sounds like a brat talking.” Jinyoung laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. Oh, Yugyeom liked. Yugyeom liked a lot.

“Have fun painting your life away.” Yugyeom waved him off, stepping down the hall and completely blowing past his ex’s door in favor of taking the elevator back down.

When Yugyeom walked out onto the sidewalk, he found a spare canvas sitting beside the garbage cans. Jinyoung had already shooed him, and truthfully, even if it did end up getting hauled to the dump, Jinyoung could've ended up painting 2,000 more just like it. Seemed like that was his goal _anyways._

  
  
  
  
  


Yugyeom didn’t go to his ex’s for a few days. As a matter of fact, after helping Jinyoung out around his apartment that day, Yugyeom deleted the last message his ex sent him, and even went out with Youngjae a few times, who awkwardly commented that Yugyeom looked better, even if their conversation was a little stinted and odd without Bambam to facilitate the conversation. Bambam was still on a “Yugyeom hiatus” as he put it, even though Yugyeom had apologized for the other night.

(“You really don’t have to apologize,” Youngjae had said between slurps of soup, while Yugyeom stared down at his bowl and sighed, still feeling alone without Bambam there.”

“I know I don’t, but he’s really angry at me.”

“He’s always angry at something,” Youngjae replied, before reaching his spoon over to take a mouthful of Yugyeom’s own food.)

But Yugyeom went about his week for the most part, spending most of his time avoiding thoughts of his ex. It was hard sometimes, Yugyeom had to be honest, when parts of his ex were littered around his own apartment.

So Yugyeom, being Yugyeom, decided to take a hiatus from his own apartment. Youngjae was busy at work, and Bambam himself had only just started texting him on and off every now and again, leaving Yugyeom to his own devices. He headed out from his apartment in a fresh outfit, but his hair still greasy from not having showered the night before, after a long eight hour shift at work.

The hiatus involved a long, drawn out walk, starting outside of his apartment complex, winding around the park, and ending up at the shopping mall just on the edge of town, before picking up a chocolate shake for the walk back. It involved a lot of song shuffling, bopping his head along to the beat, and avoiding people’s gazes. Yugyeom was actually looking forward to going out, truth be told. The escape from his stifling apartment was definitely welcomed.

With that, Yugyeom started his walk, ambling along, listening to his music in relative peace. It was nice outside, and there weren’t a lot of people to brush past, even at the park, where mostly parents hung around with their kids, trying to one up each other with how well they took care of their own children, while their kids struggled to catch their parents attention for more than two seconds. Yugyeom managed to get to his smoothie store in peace, ordering his chocolate shake, before turning on his heel and heading back home.

The walk home was almost as uneventful as the walk there. Yugyeom skipped a few songs, bobbed his head along to a few others, before looking up at finding himself at the intersection of streets, one of which led to his ex’s apartment complex. Yugyeom found himself thinking about heading over, making a stop or even attempting to talk to him again. After all, things had ended a bit abruptly, and Yugyeom still wanted answers as to why.

So Yugyeom crossed the street, hands stuffed in his pockets, just barely making it over the curb before he heard somebody beside him, huffing and puffing. Yugyeom glanced over, and found nobody else but Jinyoung, standing beside him, hands wrapped around the thin handles of four grocery bags, all of which looked like were on the brink of ripping. Yugyeom grinned almost immediately.

He shouted, “Jinyoung!” which caught him off guard, nearly dropping the bags in his hands, only to curse under his breath before looking up at Yugyeom. Almost immediately, his expression changed from serious and stern, to almost immediately softening, an involuntary tug at the corners of his lips, before he frowned and looked Yugyeom up and down.

“Are you stalking me?” was the first thing out of his mouth, before Yugyeom stifled a laugh behind his hand and looked back at Jinyoung.

“You wish I was stalking you!” Yugyeom teased, but found himself grinning widely. Jinyoung fumbled with the bags in his hands, to which Yugyeom reached out and took two by the handles from Jinyoung’s hands, holding them in front of them with a sheepish look on his face. “You looked like you needed help.”

Jinyoung flushed out of embarrassment, but didn’t deny the aid, as he nodded his head in the direction of the apartment complex. Yugyeom didn’t want to remind him that he was already well aware of where Jinyoung lived thank-you-very-much, but instead, followed Jinyoung, listening to the way Jinyoung sniffled slightly, like he was running a slight cold. They ended up at the door of the apartment complex, Jinyoung kicking it open and letting Yugyeom in first before joining him in the elevator and punching the button with his knuckle. He sighed, leaning against the back of the elevator.

“Were you coming to see your boyfriend?” Jinyoung said. Yugyeom tensed, but let it dissipate a moment later.

“Ah... no. I was just out on a walk. No work today.”

Jinyoung hummed, the elevator lurching upwards, then coming to a stop at Jinyoung’s floor. Yugyeom scooped up the bags in his arms, following Jinyoung down the hall and letting out a deep sigh.

Jinyoung reached his apartment first, his footsteps a bit more rushed since his hands were tired from holding onto the bags. As he jerked his keys out of his pocket and fumbled with them to unlock the door, another one of the doors swung open, Yugyeom turning and glancing behind him to find, who else but his ex, standing in the doorway, tugging his shoes on before looking up and holding his phone to his ear.

Yugyeom froze, his mind begging him to turn around and maybe try hiding himself (which was a bit pointless, considering his bright red hair, which his ex mentioned more than once that he despised.

Despite Yugyeom trying to turn around and look away, they ended up making eye contact. His ex’s brows furrowed, studying him, the bags in his hands, and then over to Jinyoung, who managed to open his apartment door. He pulled his phone from his hands, parting his lips to speak, but Jinyoung was tugging on Yugyeom’s arm, and Yugyeom easily followed him inside.

As soon as they were inside, the door shut behind them, Yugyeom let out a loud sigh... of relief? He couldn’t tell what it was. It could have very well been relief. As soon as his ex saw him, Yugyeom could see the way he was angrily rearing up, ready to yell at him, ready to ask him what the fuck he was doing with Jinyoung, and— well, Yugyeom wasn’t exactly feeling up for it at the moment.

“Do you want something to drink?” Jinyoung said, his voice close. Yugyeom flinched, nearly dropping the bags in his arms if it weren’t for Jinyoung already hooking his fingers in the handles of the bag. He stared at Yugyeom. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Yugyeom said, blinking his shock away. Jinyoung quirked a brow and stared at him curiously. “I mean, yeah. Yeah, something to drink would be awesome.”

“You look like you just saw a ghost.” Jinyoung paused, flickering his gaze over to the door. “Did you leave something out there—”

“No, I’m okay,” Yugyeom rushed out, his hand darting out for Jinyoung’s arm, stopping him in his place. A second later, Yugyeom jerked his hand away, like Jinyoung’s arm was a forbidden place to touch, and Yugyeom was waiting to be scolded. He immediately apologized, bowing his head.

“Yugyeom-ah,” Jinyoung said, the suddenly lack of formality making Yugyeom relax, if only for a moment. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting... all weird.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Yugyeom said between bows of his head. “I really am okay.”

Jinyoung didn’t look like he believed Yugyeom any more, even with the reassurances. Still, he nodded and carried the bags into the kitchen. Yugyeom followed. Jinyoung waved towards the fridge.

“Take anything you want,” he said, unpacking the grocery bags on the counter. Yugyeom was pleasantly surprised to see that one of the bags happened to be a bag of painting supplies, fresh paints, and new paintbrushes, which Yugyeom was sure would be tacky with paint by the end of the night.

Yugyeom ducked down, grabbed a drink and leaned back on the counter with a quiet sigh. Jinyoung was preoccupied, putting his things away and then setting things aside for later. Yugyeom took a moment to look around Jinyoung’s apartment. Not much looked different. He did notice a woman’s bra hanging off the back of the couch— making him blush before he let a sheepish smile take over his lips. Jinyoung looked over his shoulder, noticed where Yugyeom was looking, before darting over and stuffing the bra between the cushions of the couch.

“I guess she doesn’t think they’re so creepy anymore?” Yugyeom supplied. Jinyoung scoffed, but couldn’t help walking over and pinching Yugyeom’s arm. It was strangely familiar— like they were already friends, and Yugyeom was allowed to feel comfortable, allowed to feel relaxed in this apartment with someone he had only spoken to extensively once before.

“She just sleeps here sometimes. Her commute to work is long, so sometimes she’ll stay here instead of going all the way home.”

Yugyeom nodded his head, but earned another pinch to his arm and a quiet, mumbled, “brat,” before Jinyoung walked over to his groceries again and turned to Yugyeom.

“Are you busy?” Yugyeom furrowed his brows. “I’m gonna order pizza. I have friends coming over.”

“Is this you subtly trying to tell me to get out of your apartment?” Yugyeom quirked a brow with a smirk on his face. “Because you’re a little bad at subtlety. Actually, you’re _really_ bad at it.”

“Actually, you _smartass,”_ Jinyoung said, throwing a crumb at Yugyeom and laughing when Yugyeom sputtered as it bounced off of his upper lip, “I was offering you the chance to stay. If you wanted to.” Jinyoung paused, studying Yugyeom for a moment. “You mentioned you weren’t busy. I just thought... if you wanted to.” Jinyoung looked nervous as he finished his sentence.

For once, Yugyeom didn’t have a smart response, no quick turn of the tongue to make Jinyoung bugged or irritated (Yugyeom couldn’t explain why he wanted to do that to Jinyoung either— he just did. It was funny!). Instead, Yugyeom just nodded, smiling warmly as soon as he noticed Jinyoung smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling before he pulled his phone from his pocket.

  
  
  
  
  


That night, Yugyeom was sent home, partially drunk, but with Jinyoung’s phone number, and the emergency number of Jaebum as well, in case anything bad happened. Of course, nothing did. Yugyeom stumbled home, but ended up safe in the confines of his apartment, falling over on the couch and knocking out within the first few minutes of being face first in a pile of pillows.

It was between one invitation to spend time together and the next, that Yugyeom finally began to feel comfortable with Jinyoung in his apartment, and he thought, maybe, that Jinyoung was beginning to feel the same way as well. Yugyeom had managed to bring Bambam along, who was no longer angry at him for the situation, but still a bit touchy on it all.

Still, they all got along— Jinyoung and Jaebum, and Yugyeom and Bambam, sitting together on the floor of Jinyoung’s apartment, eating pizza, with the paintings looming over them. Yugyeom thought things must have been going well with Jinyoung and the unnamed mystery woman, who seemed to leave less and less of her items in the apartment. Yugyeom even noticed one night, as he fell asleep on Jinyoung’s couch for the first time, that the pillow smelled faintly of floral perfume.

And then another night, after they drank too much, and Yugyeom laid on the couch, dangling his arm off the edge and running his fingers along the seam of the wood flooring, Jinyoung spoke to him in their hazy drunkenness.

Jinyoung, himself, was a bit more articulate than Yugyeom was when he was drunk. He might have slurred his words still, maybe stumbled over a few words every now and again, but still got his point across as he laid flat on the opposite couch.

“Yugyeom-ah,” he began, his voice low, almost husky under his breath. Yugyeom shivered, and damned himself for the reaction. “Are you really dating the person you said you were?”

Yugyeom immediately flinched at the question, turning his face so he could see Jinyoung, who was carefully studying him, as if waiting for Yugyeom to respond badly. Yugyeom took a moment, his expression not changing. He was amazed at his own self control. Most of the time, he would’ve let his expression slip, particularly if he was drunk.

“That guy... from down the hall.” Jinyoung nodded his head towards the door. Explanation enough, Yugyeom shook his head. Jinyoung wet his lips. “You’re not?”

“No.” Yugyeom hummed and buried his face closer in the pillow. “I haven’t been.”

There was a silence between them. Yugyeom wanted to ask what Jinyoung was thinking, if he was angry that Yugyeom had lied this entire time, but the words were stuck in his throat like tacky glue, making his sentences feel like clumped up messes of thoughts.

“I figured,” he said, eventually, taking a long drink of his beer before leaning back in his seat. “I saw him come home with somebody last week. I thought... that he was cheating on you.” Jinyoung squinted up at the ceiling, his eyes flickering between the texture and the fan that spun weakly in the middle of the ceiling. “But when I asked him, he just said that he was tired of you.”

Yugyeom felt his heart pang at the words. It stung, and he couldn’t even hear his ex properly saying it.

“I can’t believe you dated a guy like that,” Jinyoung sighed.

“Yeah, well....” Yugyeom had no real argument. “I guess we both picked gems to fall in love with, right?”

“What do you mean?” Jinyoung said. He moved to take another drink of his beer, only to realize it was empty.

“Your girl. The one you like— she threw your paintings in the trash.” Yugyeom waved his hands to the walls. “And she uses you for a place to crash. That’s it. You still love her, right?”

Jinyoung didn’t answer. He sat in his seat for a minute, Yugyeom ready to apologize for crossing a boundary he shouldn’t have, when Jinyoung stood up and complained that the beer tasted disgusting, and he didn’t know why he was drinking it in the first place.

By the time Jinyoung came back with a glass of wine, Yugyeom was fast asleep, even snoring a little, as he tugged the blanket from the back of the couch over himself a bit more.


	2. Chapter 2

There were few and far between things Jinyoung wanted in his life, most of which ranged between new paint palettes and brushes whenever his older ones seemed to be going to shit, or maybe just a nice glass of wine after a particularly tiring day at work. Yes, Jinyoung worked, besides painting. As much as he dreamed about making a living off of his art alone, Jinyoung wasn’t one to truly pursue it, especially after being told so many times when he was younger that it wouldn’t result in anything profitable.

And maybe Jinyoung enjoyed nice quiet nights, where Eunmi laid on his couch, listening to music or reading a book, or maybe just watching him paint, because she did enjoy that at  _ some  _ point during their relationship— or whatever it was the two shared— together. She didn’t always hate the paintings Jinyoung managed to jot down in his free time. As a matter of fact, that was how the two had met. Jinyoung, sitting outside with his sketchbook, had to deal with this young girl approaching him and sitting beside him before asking him to draw her.

She asked. Jinyoung always remembered that. She asked first, and Jinyoung did as she wanted, because she was beautiful. Jinyoung loved to sketch beautiful things.

But that silence had taken a turn as of late. Jinyoung replaced his typical routine of calm with an oddly place routine of having friends over. Jaebum had taken to stopping by after his absurdly long shifts at work, and Mark had just recently returned from travelling to the UK, so Jinyoung invited him over on more than one occasion.

And perhaps the most oddly placed, out of all of them, was the young man from down the hall, who had disrupted Jinyoung’s nap between sketches by banging incessantly on the door of one of Jinyoung’s neighbors. Truthfully, Jinyoung didn’t care for his neighbors much in the first place anyways. They made too much noise, gave Jinyoung dirty looks when he went downstairs to get his mail. There was almost nothing redeeming about the majority of them.

Yet, this kid, for lack of a better word to call him, had managed to work his way into Jinyoung’s life. Jinyoung wasn’t quite sure if he intended on doing it in the first place— speaking to Jinyoung, he meant. After all, that kid had come around a lot of times before. It could have been pure chance that they ran into each other more than once. Jinyoung faintly remembered being in the elevator once with him and his boyfriend even, though the atmosphere was so painfully awkward and stiff, Jinyoung felt like even walking out of the elevator was like walking through the thickest of quicksand.

Normally, Yugyeom was able to keep himself in check. Despite constantly feeling judged for his paintings, Jinyoung knew Yugyeom would never actually bring it up or shame him for it, because Jinyoung knew about Yugyeom and his ex. They were both in traps they couldn’t quite escape out of, so Yugyeom judging him would have been a classic case of pot-calling-the-kettle-black.

And normally, Jinyoung didn’t have the type of breakdown he was having at the moment, Eunmi having decided to visit once again on her long commute between jobs. At first, she sat comfortably in the living room, only sipping on her tea with her legs curled up underneath her on the couch. Jinyoung didn’t talk to her, because she wouldn’t talk unless she was ready to. So Jinyoung focused on mixing paints in the dining room-turned makeshift art studio. Who needed a comfortable place to eat dinner anyways?

But it seemed that Jinyoung, on this particular day, was not allowed to experience the normal.

It started with a question, Eunmi uncomfortably shifting on the couch and taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Why do you like painting me?”

Jinyoung furrowed his brows, glancing over his shoulder. Eunmi’s gaze was piercing, sharp like the tone of her tongue as she tried to discern the reasoning behind it. Jinyoung shrugged without acknowledging the question outright.

“That’s not a good answer.”

It wasn’t a good question either, Jinyoung thought, as it grated on his nerves. Still, he shrugged before speaking softly.

“You asked me to, didn’t you?”

“Don’t blame this on me,” she snapped.

“I didn’t think there was blame to be put on anyone,” Jinyoung replied just as quickly, not allowing himself to be berated.

“I haven’t painted you in a while,” Jinyoung said, which wasn’t a lie. It had been almost two weeks since the last time Jinyoung had taken the time to even think about sketching her. Lately, Jinyoung had taken to more abstract concepts, taking people’s portraits and turning them into something else, morphing their being into something else entirely.

“But you still have all these fucking creepy paintings,” Eunmi said without caution.

“You don’t have to stay,” Jinyoung replied.

“Why don’t you understand they make me uncomfortable? All I want is for you to get rid of them.”

“You don’t, though,” Jinyoung said, only pausing to take a breath. “When I paint other people, you get jealous. You take my paintings and throw them out when they’re of other people.”

Eunmi didn’t offer a response, only taking a moment to contemplate her response before sighing.

“Maybe you should just stop painting.”

The pang of an ache hit Jinyoung right in the chest, knocked all the breath from his lungs and made him practically wheeze in desperation to catch his breath. Jinyoung had never turned on someone so quick in his life.

“How dare you?”

Eunmi didn’t back down from her stance. “Are you making any money, Jinyoung? Do you make  _ any  _ profits from these things you waste your time on?”

“Get out.”

Jinyoung made to open the door to his apartment, but before he could, Eunmi was standing up on the couch, paying no mind to the blatant disrespect to Jinyoung’s belongings. With one fell swoop, Eunmi tore off the canvas from the wood frame of the painting, nails digging into the thick material before ripping off pieces, shreds. Jinyoung couldn’t ignore the obvious pain budding in his chest at the sight, biting back anger and first responses to grab her off the couch, by the waist, setting her down on the floor. 

Within a second, Eunmi was running across the living room, tearing down more, throwing them at the walls and then grabbing a pair of scissors lying on Jinyoung’s table to stab them through the canvas.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jinyoung shouted. Eunmi reared on him.

“What’s wrong with  _ you?!”  _ she spat. “There’s something wrong with you, Jinyoung! Painting people like this, even after they ask you not to.”

“I don’t ask you to keep coming around!” Jinyoung yelled. The volume of his voice scared even himself, so he wasn’t surprised to see Eunmi flinch at the sound of his voice. Still, he stepped back, as if disgusted with himself that he had had that kind of reaction on somebody he supposedly loved. There was nothing loving in scaring her.

“If you’re going to destroy everything, then just— just get out.”

Eunmi, either stunned or just plain upset, rushed to grab her shoes. She didn’t even look at Jinyoung, even going as far as tossing her drink on the floor before storming towards the front door.

Jinyoung waited for the slam of his front door, as he fell to his knees and began to pick up the pieces of shredded canvas from the floor, but it never came. After a moment of hesitation, he looked up, and found Yugyeom standing at the door, staring down the hall, as if watching Eunmi walk away. Yugyeom looked back at Jinyoung after a moment, his eyes widening when Jinyoung sniffled and wiped a few bitter tears from his eyes.

“Hyung,” Yugyeom said, but didn’t try prying. Instead, he walked in, helped Jinyoung pick up the pieces of his torn apart art, even though Jinyoung tried shoving him away, albeit weakly.

“Go away, Yugyeom.”

Yugyeom didn’t leave. Couldn’t bring himself to leave Jinyoung alone when he was so blatantly upset. Maybe it wasn’t Yugyeom’s business. Maybe Jinyoung was right, and Yugyeom should have left— but he stayed, even when Jinyoung stood up and told him he didn’t need his help anymore.

“She tore them down again,” Yugyeom observed. “Hyung, it can’t be good for you to live like this. With her.”

“It isn’t your business,” Jinyoung snapped. Yugyeom bit his tongue, willed himself to stay quiet, because he did have trouble keeping his opinions to himself when it really mattered. His ex reminded him of that plenty of times— so he didn’t need Jinyoung snapping at him in the exact same way. 

Yugyeom picked up the last of the paintings on the floor, those that were torn up and damaged, before turning to Jinyoung with a curious expression on his face. Jinyoung sighed and took one from Yugyeom’s arms. Then he walked to his front door, Yugyeom trailing behind him, ignoring the way the TV blared from his ex’s apartment just a few doors away from Jinyoung’s own.

In the elevator, Jinyoung didn’t say anything. Yugyeom looked down at his feet, flickering his gaze to Jinyoung only once or twice, before lifting his hand from his side and thumbing away a stray tear still on Jinyoung’s cheek. Jinyoung hesitated, meeting Yugyeom’s gaze with wariness, before grimacing.

“What are you doing?”

Yugyeom shrugged. “Can’t have you looking like a crybaby, can we?”

Jinyoung made another face at Yugyeom, one that made Yugyeom giggle and snicker before straightening out and quieting himself once the doors to the elevator opened.

The silence that followed was unbearable, for Yugyeom, who squeaked at the sight of a particular somebody waiting outside of the lift, and Jinyoung, who called out Yugyeom’s name so obliviously as he started out of the elevator.

Yugyeom’s throat went dry when his ex’s expression practically shifted, from nonchalance indifference, to pure disgust. Yugyeom rushed out, walking towards Jinyoung, just as he felt his ex wrap his fingers around his arm and squeeze tight.

“What are you doing?”

Yugyeom shivered, but jerked his arm away. Jinyoung furrowed his brows.

Despite the very obvious question that lingered in the air, Yugyeom just pulled away and led the way outside of the complex, not even waiting for Jinyoung, who was staring Yugyeom’s ex down, until he walked into the elevator, not even looking up and meeting Jinyoung’s gaze. Jinyoung’s hand tightened around the frame of his painting, letting out a long breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, because confrontation always made him a little nervous.

When Jinyoung finally walked outside, he found Yugyeom waiting at the bottom of the steps, fingers nervously playing with the edges of the ruined canvas and immediately walking towards the dumpster when Jinyoung reached the bottom step as well.

Wordlessly, they tossed the paintings, didn’t even spare them a second glance— they both knew that if Jinyoung missed them that much, he’d end up repainting them. Making more. Because that was all Jinyoung did in his free time: draw the same person, who didn’t love him, who didn’t even want him to paint her, all because of his own selfish desires.

“What did you come over for, anyway?” Jinyoung said. Yugyeom hummed, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat, before shaking his head.

“I forgot.”

Jinyoung squinted at Yugyeom, noticed how small he made himself. How his shoulders were just a little more sunken than they had been before. He didn’t smile for more than a few seconds. Jinyoung could tell he was afraid, and then it clicked, that he was afraid from seeing his ex.

“Did you want to go out and do something?” Jinyoung offered. Yugyeom immediately shook his head, not even allowing Jinyoung the chance to pay for whatever it was they were to do together, before bidding him a good night, and apologizing for intruding when Jinyoung was preoccupied. Then Yugyeom took his leave, not looking over his shoulder, while Jinyoung waited, completely dumbfounded, on the sidewalk outside of his apartment complex.

When Jinyoung turned around, he found blinds at third floor of the apartment complex swaying.

  
  
  


Yugyeom, with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jackets, damned himself for not taking Jinyoung up on his offer. He had gone over to ask Jinyoung the same thing, but Jinyoung was clearly distracted from dealing with his own... ex? Partner? Yugyeom wasn’t quite sure what to call her, considering she very clearly wanted the bare minimum to do with Jinyoung, and to be blatantly honest, appeared to be using him for his apartment anyways. But Yugyeom wouldn’t have said those things to Jinyoung, because they weren’t his place to, and as much as Yugyeom prided himself on being honest with who he needed to be, Jinyoung was another story.

Jinyoung made his palms clammy and his breath stutter in his throat when he caught Yugyeom off guard. Jinyoung made Yugyeom nervous, plain and simple, made him rethink the things he wanted to say, made Yugyeom say some really dumb shit most of the time— and Yugyeom couldn’t quite explain why that was.

Maybe Bambam would want to go out for drinks, Yugyeom thought with a sigh, tugging his phone from his pocket as he slowed to a stop at a crosswalk. The winds were cold and curling around Yugyeom’s body as he shivered and tucked his jacket closer to his face. He’d be home soon enough, and drinking would surely bring a touch of warmth to him.

At the crosswalk, Yugyeom tapped the toe of his boots against the sidewalk, heard scuffles at the far end of the sidewalk behind him, but paid them no mind. Probably just someone trying to rush to the crosswalk before it changed.

But as Yugyeom noticed the light was about to change, he heard the footsteps get closer, and then—

“Yugyeom!”

He flinched at the sound of the voice, but not out of fear. Just surprise, because as he turned on his heel, he expected to see—

“Jinyoung,” he said, voice soft. Jinyoung’s voice was so telling, Yugyeom could never mistake it for anybody else’s. “What’s wrong?”

Jinyoung parted his lips to speak, but instead let out a sigh, keeling over and setting his hands on his knees with a loud breath. “God, I had to run all the way here to make it.”

“You okay?” Yugyeom said, a teasing undertone to his voice as he snickered. Jinyoung stood up, sighed after regaining his breath, and looked at Yugyeom.

“We should go out and do something,” Jinyoung insisted. Yugyeom paused, biting the inside of his cheek, because for some reason, he was still... afraid. Or something. He couldn’t quite tell what he was feeling. His gut twisted in the pit of his belly, but not from fear. No, when he looked at Jinyoung, there was an overwhelming flood of relief rushing through his veins, like everything was going to be all right when Jinyoung quirked his lips just right and smiled at him.

“Sure,” Yugyeom agreed a beat after. Jinyoung, after truly regaining his breath, walked beside Yugyeom, hands stuffed in the flimsy pockets of his jacket, as Yugyeom glanced at him from the corner of his eye. He wanted to laugh when Jinyoung shivered at a stray wind, but couldn’t help but feel responsible for it a little as well. After all, if Yugyeom hadn’t made Jinyoung worry and chase after him like that, Jinyoung could have been in his heated apartment, surrounded by his torn up paintings, doing whatever it was Jinyoung did when Yugyeom wasn’t around. Jinyoung things, he supposed.

Jinyoung allowed Yugyeom to pick the place to go, the two settling in the booth of a couple’s section of the restaurant. Yugyeom smiled at Jinyoung over the top of his menu, made faces at him until Jinyoung flickered his gaze upwards, and kicked him in the shin for being such a brat. Yugyeom didn’t even hiss at the sensation, just made more faces at Jinyoung and earned the quiet click of his tongue, teasing disapproval.

Yugyeom quietly wondered if the easiness between them came naturally— if Jinyoung wasn’t forcing himself to spend time with Yugyeom, because he really didn’t have to. Well, nobody had to. Yugyeom knew that.

Jinyoung looked over his menu again, noticed the way Yugyeom furrowed his brows just a touch too much, but didn’t say anything.

“Yugyeom-ah,” Jinyoung said, catching Yugeom’s attention. He nodded, redirected his attention to his menu, but was listening to Jinyoung. “You’re afraid of your ex.”

The way Jinyoung said it made it sound like an accusation— like Yugyeom was trying to hide the fact. Maybe he was. After all, whenever Yugyeom was faced by his ex in any situation out of his comfort zone, he tucked tail and ran away, even when it was abrupt and left others feeling confused or lost. That was what he had done to Jinyoung earlier, and Yugyeom almost felt stupid for thinking Jinyoung wouldn’t have noticed.

Jinyoung spoke before Yugyeom could get over his initial embarrassment. “Why?”

Yugyeom sputtered. “That’s not your business.”

Jinyoung set his menu down, quirking a brow at Yugyeom. “You come over to my house, clean up my mess after Eunmi leaves,” he paused and took a sip of his water, “you let me cry in front of you, and make your own accusations about our relationship without knowing a thing that goes on between us.” Jinyoung flickered his gaze back up to Yugyeom, who felt pinned under the weight of his expression.

“That’s... that’s different.” Yugyeom breathed out, nervous.

“It’s different because you don’t like telling others about your own problems.” Jinyoung’s voice was sharp again.

“He isn’t a problem!” Yugyeom shot back, defensive. He lowered his voice when Jinyoung noticed the waitress was walking towards the table, Yugyeom flushing in embarrassment as he placed his order, and Jinyoung did the same, so nonchalant, like he wasn’t just tearing into Yugyeom, pulling him apart. “He isn’t a problem.”

“Even now, you still talk about him fondly,” Jinyoung retorted. “You know, I’m only being polite by asking first, Yugyeom.”

“What do you mean?” Yugyeom said. Jinyoung shook his head.

“The walls are thin in the apartments. I walked past that place all the time. I could hear you two arguing all the time.” Jinyoung scoffed. “The whole complex could hear you two going at it. Honestly, it’d be easier just to listen to you two have sex, to be honest.”

Yugyeom, too shocked to say anything else, flushed beet red and stuttered out an angry, “fuck you, Jinyoung,” before taking in a deep breath and readying himself to get out of his seat.

However, when he noticed the still nonchalant and unbothered expression on Jinyoung’s face, the only thing Yugyeom wanted to do was wipe it off. How  _ dare  _ Jinyoung ask him all those questions and then pretend he had any right to be smug about it? What kind of person  _ was  _ he?

“You wouldn’t understand it.”

“Try me,” Jinyoung said.

Yugyeom felt a prickle of irritation on the back of his neck. He cleared his throat.

“My ex loved me. He really did. We were good together at first.” Yugyeom waited for some sort of snide comment from Jinyoung, but all he earned was the wave of his hand, urging him to continue. “I loved him. But— but things just don’t work out always, and we started fighting, and that was all that happened.”

“How did he hurt you?” Jinyoung cut straight to the chase. Yugyeom furrowed his brows.

“God, what’s wrong with you? Why do you need to know?”

“Because every time you see him, you duck your head like he’s going to yell at you,” Jinyoung said. “You flinch when he breathes too loud, you run away and—” Jinyoung bit back the rest of his sentence, resisted the urge to say,  _ “you pretend like I can’t protect you from him.” _

Yugyeom went quiet again when their waitress returned with small plates, giving them an awkwardly placed grin. The tension in the air was definitely thick.

“I’m not afraid of him.”

Yugyeom’s voice was so quiet, Jinyoung wasn’t sure if he had heard him over the chatter of the restaurant. But Yugyeom’s shoulders squared just a little, brows furrowed, eyes focused in front of him before landing on Jinyoung.

“You think I’m scared of him, but I’m not.”

“You  _ are.”  _

“You can’t tell me what I do and don’t feel for somebody.”

Jinyoung hummed. “I suppose I can’t. You are your own person.” But he shrugged and looked back up at Yugyeom. “But if I’m not in love with Eunmi, then you’re not in love with your ex either.”

“There’s a reason he’s my  _ ex.” _

“And that was by your choice as well?”

Yugyeom, thoroughly annoyed by the fact that Jinyoung had him pinned to a T, scoffed and pushed himself out of his seat. Jinyoung made no moves to chase after him, his eyes only following him to the door, before Yugyeom stormed out, huffy and pissed off, and wished he could have slammed the restaurant door behind him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Nearly a week and a half had passed between the last time Yugyeom had seen Jinyoung. That was fairly normal, Yugyeom thought, as he laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, the fan weakly turning, on its last limbs after years of abuse in the apartment complex.

After all, Jinyoung and Yugyeom weren’t exactly the best of friends. Yes, they hung out together more often than Yugyeom had spent time with, say, Jaebum, or even Bambam had spent with Jinyoung, but Jinyoung most certainly wasn’t on the same level with Bambam in his life.

And, honestly, it took somebody like Bambam in his life to be the one to say the things he had said to him on that night. Yugyeom huffed his bangs out of his face, hair still wet from the shower he had taken earlier. Bambam had reason and right to get angry about the things Yugyeom’s ex had done to him, what Yugyeom let him do to him, because Bambam had to live with it. What right did Jinyoung have to poke and prod at Yugyeom like a test subject, trying to make him feel bad for something he knew absolutely nothing about?

(That was completely ignoring the fact that Yugyeom had done the same to Jinyoung about his own troublesome relationship with Eunmi, which Bambam mentioned quite a few times, to really drive in the fact that Yugyeom was a hypocrite.)

But Jinyoung wasn’t Bambam— Jinyoung was Jinyoung, and that night, he was being fucking rude if Yugyeom was going to put it in plain terms. He had to storm out to get the point across to Jinyoung. If he didn’t, who knows how much more verbal abuse Yugyeom would’ve had to put up with when all he was looking forward to was a simple meal with him?

Yugyeom wondered, for a moment, what it was that made Jinyoung ask the question so suddenly, or if he had just been waiting to ask him and that was the entire reason he had asked Yugyeom to dinner and spending time together.  _ That was probably it, the bastard,  _ Yugyeom thought bitterly, biting the side of his cheek in irritation just as he felt his phone vibrate in his hand. Too easily, he felt his heart lurch in his chest at the idea of it being maybe Jinyoung, maybe apologizing or asking him to come over so he could apologize, even though Yugyeom should’ve known better— Jinyoung wouldn’t do that.

The message on his screen wasn’t from Jinyoung, or Bambam, or even a stray one from Jaebum asking Yugyeom about Jinyoung, but instead, from his ex. Yugyeom’s heart sank instead of lurched, his gut twisting in— fear? Hesitation? Caution? (See: all of the above?) Yugyeom couldn’t tell. All he knew was that he opened the text before even thinking about it, found his ex begging him to come over so they could talk, which Yugyeom should have  _ known  _ better.

But god, his body moved faster than his brain could comprehend it, tugged his shoes on, slipped out of his apartment without alerting Bambam to the fact that he was leaving.

Yugyeom should have been embarrassed. A part of him felt ashamed of how easily he went running when his ex snapped his fingers.

For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking of Jinyoung, even as he brought his knuckles down on the door to his ex’s apartment, and waited.

  
  
  


The following morning, Jinyoung was woken up by the sound of yelling down the hall. Normally, Jinyoung was able to brush it off as something that happened every now and again in their apartment complex. After all, people argued. Jinyoung himself had many arguments in the complex. Very normal for his neighbors to partake in as well.

The oddness in Jinyoung suddenly waking up came when he heard Yugyeom’s voice, desperately trying to quell the loud yelling of another voice. And Jinyoung knew better than to follow his gut instincts, should have stayed in bed and thought on it for a moment more, but instead, ran out of his apartment, down two doors, and brought his fist down on the front door to his neighbor’s apartment. The yelling hushed, and then the door opened, just a crack.

“What do you want?” said the neighbor, Yugyeom’s ex. Jinyoung damned himself for not even thinking of something to say before knocking, because all he could think of now was yelling in his neighbor’s face and kicking the door open, hoping it broke something in his face.

Instead, Jinyoung cleared his throat.

“Could you keep it down? It’s seven in the morning.”

“You really knocked on my door for that?”

“Well, that, and—” Jinyoung paused, trying to glance over the man’s shoulder. “Yugyeom?”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Yugyeom,” Jinyoung repeated, without waiting for Yugyeom to answer. “My door is open for you whenever you want to come back.”

“Get out of here,” his neighbor said, more force behind his words as he shoved the door shut, left Jinyoung out in the hallway. All he could hear was the sound of his quiet breaths, trying to calm himself down. For a moment, he debated knocking on the door again, but was sure he’d either be ignored, or punched in the face.

So he returned to his apartment, left the door unlocked, and started cooking breakfast. He didn’t miss the resounding argument coming from the apartment two doors down. His heart twisted in his chest when he heard Yugyeom’s voice, just barely muffled through the vents, sounding so desperate and... broken. Something along those lines of ache.

Just as Jinyoung made to grab a few eggs from his fridge, he heard a quiet knock at his front door.

“Come in,” he said, not even bothering to turn around. The doorknob turned, door swung open; Yugyeom walked in without making a peep. Still, Jinyoung didn’t look over his shoulder. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to, at the thought of seeing Yugyeom standing in his living room, after doing something he most definitely shouldn’t have done with his ex. There would only be one reason for Yugyeom to be in his ex’s apartment that early in the morning, and it certainly wasn’t that he made an early morning stop.

Jinyoung didn’t miss the way that Yugyeom slowly sniffled, the echo of his footsteps through the apartment until he was just behind Jinyoung. Jinyoung set the spatula down after shutting the stove off, and waited. Just as he made to turn, Yugyeom pulled him into a hug, crouching over and hiding his face in the crook of Jinyoung’s neck. Already, Jinyoung could feel him shaking with sobs, tears trailing down the softness of his cheeks. Jinyoung pulled Yugyeom closer, let his hand rest on the nape of his neck.

“Hyung,” Yugyeom started, but couldn’t even finish his sentence. Instead, he sobbed harder, and Jinyoung squeezed, letting him know he was there, with him, wasn’t judging him, even though it was such a poor decision. Jinyoung knew what it was like, to be so hopelessly in love with somebody, where the sound of their voice felt like the beckoning of the shore to the ocean, the pull, pull, pull.

Jinyoung didn’t let Yugyeom go until Yugyeom was moving to stand up on his own. When he did, Jinyoung found his eyes rimmed red, like he hadn’t slept at all, and his lips dry. He hummed, almost disapprovingly, but more concern in the action.

“Get something to drink. I’ll finish cooking.”

Yugyeom didn’t even try to argue with Jinyoung the way he normally would when Jinyoung offered to take care of him— maybe he wanted to be taken care of, for a little bit. Jinyoung always took care of that  _ girl  _ anyways, so Yugyeom knew he, at the very least, enjoyed it a bit. He could allow himself to be cared for.

Jinyoung was sure by the time he carried out the plates of food to the living room, Yugyeom would have been asleep, and yet, Yugyeom was seated on the couch, still wide awake, only staring at his phone as he typed out a text and sent it off.

“Just texting Bambam,” explained Yugyeom, even though Jinyoung hadn’t asked, and frankly, didn’t felt he had to know. But he smiled at the admission, nodded at him before setting his plate down and sitting beside him.

They ate in relative silence, sound for Yugyeom sniffling every so often, and Jinyoung clearing his throat when he thought he had worked up enough courage to ask Yugyeom a question, but backed out last minute.

“I don’t want to go home today,” Yugyeom began, so soft, so quiet, Jinyoung wasn’t quite sure if he heard him right, “hyung.”

Jinyoung took a moment to contemplate, chewing his food slow before nodding just at the same pace and giving Yugyeom a gentle smile.

“Please, stay as long as you like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for patiently waiting~ let me know of all typos, mistakes, or errors in prose, as i haven't edited this chapter ♥

**Author's Note:**

> ⋅[tumblr](http://spicy--boyfriend.tumblr.com) || [writing twitter](https://twitter.com/hydrxngeas) || [writing listo](http://listography.com/hydrxngeas) || [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/hydrxngeas)⋅


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